


Joyful Song

by whizzy, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Silent Night Arc [9]
Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Coming Out, Family Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-29
Updated: 2006-12-29
Packaged: 2020-07-09 18:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19892107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whizzy/pseuds/whizzy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: Being angry at his lover, and staying that way wouldn't help anything, or repair anything. Back still turned to Dorian, Klaus nodded before he moved. It was hard to not pace, so he sat down on the bench beside Dorian, pulled a slim cigarette case out of his pocket, and a lighter. The dim glow of the lighter's flame flared briefly, and Klaus leaned back against the piano, drawing in a deep breath. "I can't be two people anymore."Not daring to touch him yet -- Klaus would make that gesture when he was ready -- Dorian surreptitiously sat on his hands as proof against temptation. "What will you do, then?" Straight to the point, a question for which his lover might not have an answer."I." Couldn't quite phrase it yet. At work, he was himself, wasn't he? Rude at times, sharp, commanding, controlled. inhibited in public. Paranoid within reason. It was *him*, not. not this odd, polite at times person he was for his family. "I'm going to give up pretending to be what I'm not anymore. Let's go to bed, Dorian. I'm tired."





	Joyful Song

Dorian, dozing lightly with his arms propped on the keyboard cover and his head in them, had woken at the clock sounding midnight. He knew what it signified, that the ball would be breaking up, and Klaus either looking for him to demand an explanation, or ignoring him unhappily. As Dorian was not particularly up to facing either, he decided to stay where he was.

The dark, the quiet of their bedroom, though, left Klaus standing in the door-way, unwilling to turn on a light. Possibly to see his worst fears come true. Had the Earl left...? Was that... what it had been about? That idiotic dance in front of so many people...

/No. He wouldn't be so cruel./ More hope than coherent thought, Klaus closed the bedroom door, and then moved over a room to check his study. Nothing, again. Dorian wouldn't have gone into the parlour or gun-room, just because of a general dislike of those rooms. Perhaps he *had* left...

Or, was sulking quietly somewhere.

The art-rooms next, the galleries with their over-decorated halls, stuffed with guests gawking at the art-work. He didn't see the familiar blonde hair, so he ducked out, uncaring as to who'd seen him. They had enough odd behaviour to remark upon for the next year, why not add a little more?!

To get to the other wing, he had to pass the main hall again. His father was in the door-way, chatting rather calmly with some old friend of his... and guests would be filtering into their rooms, the rest of the extended family settling in for a few day's stay. He only had so long left to find Dorian before it was completely conspicuous, and he wouldn't have even bothered to look except...

Except his heart was chilled and he wanted to know what was going on. Deserved to know.

The music room was the last place he looked, and as he opened the door to a dimly lit quiet, he realised it should have been the first.

Twenty minutes it had taken Klaus to find him, if Dorian supposed that his lover had left the ball at the stroke of midnight. "Hello, Klaus," the blonde man called softly, turning at the bench to watch the German's approach. He did not sound at all pleased to be found.

The first thing Klaus did was close the door behind him, tightly quiet.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"You can forgo the lecture, Klaus. I'm well aware that what I did wasn't a good idea."

"Then why the fuck did you do it?" Anger now, but at least it was something, as Klaus crossed the room to stand beside the bench. He wanted to touch Dorian, but... not until he knew the Earl's motives. And his lover knew the damage he'd done.

It was testament to Dorian's wish for forgiveness that he admitted clearly and honestly his mistake. "I... thought it would be fun. Risks appeal to me, but I wasn't thinking... I'm sorry, Klaus. I just didn't *think*."

At least Dorian was admitting it; that helped Klaus some, though he was still angry. Dorian had *always* been a man of whims. From stealing something that caught his eyes, to stealing a papal head of state... "I was going to tell the family on Christmas morning. I spent the entire fucking day trying to defend you against them, convincing them you were more than just some flaming idiot queer. And then you do *that* to me!"

Dorian recognised it as a tempered anger though, thankfully much less than the worst-case scenario he'd been half-prepared for. "I'm sorry, Klaus." Repeated softly, unhappily. "I'm not really worth defending in that way, anyway. What your family thinks of me -- it's mostly true. I mean-" Hs eyes, to that point carefully averted, snapped to his lover's face. "Tell them what?"

"What the hell do you *think* I'd be telling them?" Klaus snarled, finally making eye-contact with his lover. "But I c-can't now. I was expecting you to.... for the ball to go well, so Father wouldn't be able to object too loudly when..." He turned away, closing angry, miserable green eyes, a hand coming up to throbbing temples. "Fuck it. I just needed you to *try* like you did last year, and now I'm the family laughingstock all over again."

"And you wouldn't have been, had you gone through with your plan?" Knotted together in Dorian's stomach was a ball of tight emotions, which he was trying without much success to separate and analyse. He truly was sorry, more sorry than he'd been about anything in a long time. And fearful, that his thoughtlessness might loose him Klaus. But if after years of being together the German wasn't any closer to accepting Dorian as Dorian, and not as some proper act Dorian put on...

Disheartened at that thought he pressed on, perhaps unwisely. "Sorry to have embarrassed you in front of your horrible family, whose opinion you seem to hold in higher esteem than mine. Sorry that I slipped up and was accidentally myself for a brief time tonight. Damn it, Klaus! I never asked for you to make our relationship public! If you'd told me, given any warning..."

"*I* can't even be myself in front of my family!! Dammit, you *knew* how I'd react! You *knew* that..." Klaus fell silent, biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep his anger from rising any higher. The silence of the music-room swelled to a fury, only sound he could hear his own thrumming heart and breathing. "You didn't want to make it public? Then why ask me to dance -- If I hadn't acted how I did, I would have..." Done something that would have been socially unacceptable, an outrage that would have gotten him completely disowned. If shock at Dorian's request hadn't over-ridden his mind, he would have pulled Dorian close and given him a proper dance.

In response to Klaus' anger his lover wrenched his eyes away again, and hunched his shoulders a little as if expecting a blow. "I thought it was terribly clever, to get away with something I desperately wanted to do under the pretence of a dare. You'd been so relaxed lately, I forgot how very different you were around your family, and that you wouldn't just laugh it off like you normally would. It was a joke, Klaus. A stupid joke which wasn't meant to betray anything."

"A joke..." Of course it was a joke -- a joke he just couldn't get, couldn't quite grasp. It seemed to be hilariously funny to everyone but him, too. "What do you want me to do, Dorian?"

"Forgive me," the thief bit out, hopefully and automatically. "Beyond that, I don't care." Well, he did, but would be more than content just to be assured that whatever damage he'd done was not irreparable.

Being angry at his lover, and staying that way wouldn't help anything, or repair anything. Back still turned to Dorian, Klaus nodded before he moved. It was hard to not pace, so he sat down on the bench beside Dorian, pulled a slim cigarette case out of his pocket, and a lighter. The dim glow of the lighter's flame flared briefly, and Klaus leaned back against the piano, drawing in a deep breath. "I can't be two people anymore."

Not daring to touch him yet -- Klaus would make that gesture when he was ready -- Dorian surreptitiously sat on his hands as proof against temptation. "What will you do, then?" Straight to the point, a question for which his lover might not have an answer.

"I." Couldn't quite phrase it yet. At work, he was himself, wasn't he? Rude at times, sharp, commanding, controlled. inhibited in public. Paranoid within reason. It was *him*, not. not this odd, polite at times person he was for his family. "I'm going to give up pretending to be what I'm not anymore. Let's go to bed, Dorian. I'm tired."

It was forgiveness, in not so many words. But Dorian was used to his lover's strange way of hinting at things, never able to say some of them outright. "I can imagine you are." Now, very carefully, Dorian leaned enough to touch their shoulders together. "You go ahead, and I'll follow when the coast is clear. And this time I won't be caught."

A minute shift, and Klaus slid an arm around Dorian's shoulders for a moment, pulling him comfortably close. No explanation, no excuse given or words to cloud a simple need to touch his lover, after a harrowing, nerve-wracking night. In the morning, he had to face that his father would probably disown him. But he had his car, functional and spacious, and if they had to he and Dorian could pack his room, and drive to the Bonn apartment in short order. Everything worked itself out, it seemed. "We'll go at the same time."

"All right." Whether that meant side-by-side or touching, Dorian didn't know. This Christmas was proving to be just as big as previous ones for shocks and improbable events happening, one after the other. Before he moved, the blonde crept his own arm around Klaus and scooted closer, just soaking up the peace that contact always gave him.

The German agent didn't move for a few minutes, quiet as he slowly finished his cigarette and leaned against Dorian. When he did rise, it was by pulling Dorian up at the same time, letting him go only reluctantly. "Let's douse the lamps and go."

Dorian had only lit two, easily distinguished with a cupped hand over the glass taper and a puff of breath. Then the room was darkness. The imprint of Klaus' location was still in Dorian's mind though, and he steadily made his way to the man's side, touching his arm. Words would have been cumbersome, so he didn't offer any.

The silence was different than years prior. Instead of being drained by it, or encased, Klaus drew strength in it. Dorian's hand was on his arm as they stepped out of the music room and into the hall-way beyond. This... was the more empty part of the castle. The party was, despite his own emotional exhaustion, still continuing on in places. But he wasn't going to loose Dorian's touch.

Even when a straggle of relatives roamed past, tipsy and engrossed in cheer. Dorian tried to pull his hand away, but found Klaus' on top of it, holding it against escape.

Silent, less stiff than before, and holding Dorian's hand to his upper arm, Klaus moved knowingly down hall towards his final destination -- their room. Their room, where he could crawl into bed, Dorian with him, and no longer fear that the British man had left him.

But he never need fear that, as Dorian unintentionally assured when they'd reached the room without incident and closed themselves safely inside. The blonde in a sudden desperate motion hugged Klaus tightly and let out a sigh of purest relief.

They had boldly navigated the halls of Schloss Eberbach, without incident, and the fears of the evening had been baseless.

"Mine." A soft, soft whisper from Klaus as he let Dorian try to crush him, threading a hand through golden curls.

"Was there ever any doubt?" On both counts. Dorian was strangely shaky with a quiet, tense laughter as he said that, still squeezing Klaus tightly.

He had always known, in the child-like way he often trusted in things no other sane person would. But it was insanely wonderful to actually hear the words. And if Klaus was more comfortable saying it in German, that phrase had also been one of the first Dorian had mastered in his lover's tongue.

Just in case.

"For me? What feels like long ago," Klaus whispered, backing Dorian towards the bed. "If... it is to be you or my family, Dorian... You are my family."

A soft, indistinguishable sound left the blonde as he backed, the backs of his thighs hitting the bed. "Oh Klaus... It should never come to that. I hope it never- Thank you -- thank you, my heart, my beautiful love." He had very much needed that reassurance just then.

Guiding their tumble onto the bed carefully, Klaus sat up to start undressing, yet trying to stay as close to his lover as he could. "You are..." Everything to him, though it was hard to say that. Dorian knew. Just as Dorian knew he loved him. Someday, the words would come, but until then Klaus said what he could and showed the rest. Dorian's fierce loyalty to the German was echoed without hesitation. "Need..."

Dorian went first, on his back, but not alone there for long. As soon as Klaus had shucked out of his jacket and shirts he was dragged down on top of Dorian, the thief's hands answering Klaus' need with their hungry roaming. "Touch... I want to feel every bit of you, Klaus. I- Damn it!" A soft hiss. There was far much clothing, and too little skin. Neither man had even paused to kick their shoes off yet.

"Ah..." These moments of fumbled frustration usually took place before they had actually reached a bed. It never seemed that Dorian could find patience enough to *not* ruin clothes once in one, unless it was a slow and playful game or seduction they were indulging in. This was to be neither.

Then again, his tuxedo could be repaired, and wasn't required for another few months at least. So shoes got a little scuffed coming off, socks gone with the shoes, and the zipper of his tuxedo pants tore a little in the quick strip he did on himself. Before turning his hands on Dorian.

When it was deemed Klaus' hands weren't fast enough in ruining the line of tiny, orderly buttons down the front of Dorian's shirt, the thief's hands joined them. Frustration collided with frustration, creating a great synergetic mess that eventually resulted in Dorian's chest being bared, and his shirt reduced to a very expensive rag.

He was more grateful in that moment than he'd ever been before for anything in his entire life that he'd taken off his suspenders while in the music room, for comfort, and shoved them in a pocket. There was no way his and Klaus' impatience could have contended with suspenders.

Next were the pants, his fingers groping ineffectively for the fastenings as his hips arched high off the bed. Something between a growl and a low whine was building in his chest, fuelled by the seemingly indiscriminate way Klaus was attempting to aid his efforts.

It wasn't a co-ordinated effort, though Klaus was sure their efforts *would* be co-ordinating shortly. Pants, when unfastened, were pulled effectively down, underwear and all, and Klaus spared a moment to pry off Dorian's shoes and socks. Klaus was breathing hard, unsteady and obviously needing, as he urged Dorian further back on the bed, kneeling over him.

Dorian discovered his legs pined. He tried to move them, experimentally at first, then with a little more effort, to no avail. Klaus was kneeling so far down them, on his thighs mostly, that he couldn't reach enough of the man to touch as he would have liked. An effort to sit up was firmly rebuked by a hand pressed in the middle of his chest, and that finally released the whine from behind locked lips. "Klaus..."

"Quiet, tonight." Such a terrible risk! There were relatives slumbering not more than twelve feet away, and more traversing the halls still. But he wanted, needed to have Dorian then, prove that he was sorting out his priorities.

Understanding glistened in Dorian's eyes, paired with more frustration still as he remained trapped beneath his lover. Silence Klaus would have, if he had to bite clean through his lip to stifle whatever groans and cries the German would no doubt be dragging from him this night.

First thing that needed to be done was thoroughly kiss those not-yet bitten lips, shifting down minutely to press rough, seeking kisses against them -- the desperation of a man who lived in a state of nearly loosing and had edged just too far towards that state for his comfort. He had thought Dorian had left, would have left, still thought they'd have to leave, but it would be together, and not alone. Not ever, ever alone.

Desperation was something he'd encountered in Klaus before, and always tried to counter it, not add to the tumult as he felt himself doing. The kisses were plumbing kisses, keeping Dorian just on the uncomfortable side of breathlessness. And the thief found his traitor hands pressing encouragement, hopelessly knotted in the silk of Klaus' hair. What was free fell in a curtain about their faces, tickling his cheek.

And bangs that desperately needed a little trim tickled his fore-head and eyes, then down over his mouth as Klaus slid down slowly. He didn't stop kneeling over Dorian, as if the man were a prize catch to not be let escape, but the immobility lightened a little. "Mine." A soft gust of breath against his collar-bone, moments before Klaus bit, a little harder than a mere nip.

Oh God! His beautiful, perfect body, and Klaus meant to mark it! Not yet, not nearly hard enough to even bruise, but there was pain mingled in the line of fiery pleasure that shot straight to his neglected groin. Even freed a little, he wasn't able to press up into anything, wasn't able to create any friction at all. It was torture!

Torture that Klaus was happy to orchestrate in the silence of their bedroom. Another bite, to the other side, and then his mouth slid up to bite at the lean, perfect line of Dorian's neck. A nip turned to a deep sucking, though, and when Klaus pulled back, he knew hazily that a mark that high on Dorian's neck could only be hidden by Dorian's hair, if that. No going back after such a blatant mark was left, so he went back to kissing, sucking and nipping at his lover's beautiful chest.

And to grant both of them a little relief, he dipped his hips down against Dorian's by letting his legs slide apart. It brought two hard, needing groins together.

The bites were spots of intensity that lingered long after Klaus' mouth had moved on. More and more were added to the cacophony of sensation, until it felt to Dorian that no portion of his chest had gone untouched, the skin there was tingling so fiercely. He was just sparing space in his overloaded mind to be grateful that Klaus hadn't yet attacked his nipples when the crush of groin to groin came, stealing the breath from his lungs in a sharp gasp.

"Do you... *ah*, want this way, or... in you...?" Klaus kept the rubbing scrape of groins a constant, trying to not let his voice slip about a whisper. Softly gasped words of English would be incoherent beyond the door, but the tone would have been unmistakable.

"In!" A hissed whisper, but Dorian was drawing breath to try again louder had he not been understood. Ah, God -- how could Klaus even ask, when every kiss, every bite he inflicted on Dorian was making the British man long for his lover to finish claiming his body.

"Need to..." Be silent! He had to stop talking, had to stop the familiar chatters of words that passed between he and Dorian. It was the Earl's fault for having used conversation and questions to keep Klaus calm in the early months of their relationship; now the habit would not die!. He nipped one hard nub of flesh, and levered back with effort to get the lubricant.

He freed Dorian as he reached, enough for the blonde man to sit up a little and get his hungry mouth on a bit of flesh. A shoulder it might have been, or the juncture of that and neck. It didn't matter -- it tasted of Klaus' particular strong blend of masculinity, and his lips smirked evilly against the flesh as he decided to return the favor done him earlier. First a low suction, quickly turned fierce, and immediately behind that a sharp nip.

Completely unexpected, and Klaus let free a soft moan as Dorian's teeth made their presence sharply known against his skin, wonderful bruising force. The jar of lubrication nearly slipped from his grasp as he crushed close to Dorian again, atop him. "Dorian."

The delightful sound got him another bite, Dorian not so gently exploring the remarkable phenomenon of a moaning Klaus. Far from objecting to being crushed beneath Klaus' solidity, the blonde revelled in the weight that was driving his back into the mattress and brutally grounding him in the reality of the moment.

"Ne." Aborted words, cut out before even one could be brought to completion. The feeling of illicitness that their times together sometimes had was heavy in the air now, as Klaus pulled away from Dorian carefully. Teeth scraped, nearly drew blood, but he caught Dorian's mouth with his own. It stifled his noises of pleasure, and Dorian's when he scrabbled open the jar and slicked two fingers. Fingers that found themselves trailing along the length of Dorian's cock, over tightly drawn balls, and then beyond to that dark warm place where Klaus would soon be, drawing more sounds from his golden lover.

Tiny mewling sounds, the most Dorian dared allow himself under the circumstances. His lip was bitten, tightly at the corner to help keep the worse sounds from being made. If sure, slightly rough fingers stroking him inside induced such pleasure that he needed to vocalise it, he quailed to consider what might come from his lips when Klaus finally entered him. Hopefully there would be warm skin near to muffle his mouth against, and to that end he tossed a leg around Klaus' waist, trying to drag him as near as possible.

"Shh, a moment," Klaus told him, still twisting his fingers with a careful urgency before they were withdrawn. He knew what if felt like in the moments between preparing fingers and sweet possession, understood the tight need and almost-fear that filled Dorian in those moments. Knowledge that made him speed up his actions, slicking his aching hardness quickly before he positioned against Dorian.

Dorian would have preferred no preamble, no warning press before his lover stabbed his hips forward, his cock slamming past lingering resistance. That assault was as Dorian wished it, one deliciously masterful motion. He was in no mood for light, teasing lovemaking, and the slow stoking of fire that went with it.

Why stoke a fire that was already raging?

Klaus heard a moan, either from himself or Dorian, and worked to stifle it. Lips fiercely latched against Dorian's as he didn't stop, hips pulling out only to slam in again. Not sweet possession. Rough possession, knowing and needing to know that Dorian was there, firm and staying with him, that the ball hadn't soured things.

It was unspoken agreement that even should they retire to bed angry, they would never succumb to sleep in the same state, and the worse the conflict, the more brutal the reconciliation.

After the first few hammering strokes, Dorian had an inkling of what the night would cost him in terms of soreness the next day.

It was a reassurance they both needed though, that took from the rawness of sensation that Klaus drove into him, and from the way he hitched his other leg around Klaus, pulling him closer and demanding more. If the first moan hadn't been his he certainly made up for it now, muffled sounds of desperation emanating from the place where their lips clashed.

The risk of being caught was worse now -- because as they fell deeper into the familiar ebb of rhythm, Klaus lost all sense of alertness, and only remembered in the most perfunctory way to stifle their shared noises. Soft sounds, as always from him, but it was still such a give-away to anyone who might walk past.

But Klaus' mind, blessedly, wasn't there. It was trying to become one with Dorian, as he wrapped strong arms tight around his lover. No careful hand between them to tend to Dorian's need; only the rub and slip of slicked skin as Klaus bit his own lip, hips hitching sharply in a final time as he spilled.

There was no blossom of heat between taut abdomens to answer the one at Dorian's core. Still Dorian chewed at Klaus' lips, as if the completion he craved could be wrung instead from that source. But possession was a relief of its own -- after the mistake at the ball he nearly wept with joy to have it -- that the spark between them still flared as brightly as ever.

The lock of mouths was broken with a shuddery moan, Klaus pulling carefully back with his entire body, but not going far. No further than free of the tight slick heat that had clasped him, only registering after a moment the presence of Dorian's arousal. "Dorian..." Seldom did Klaus ever forget to tend to Dorian first; seldom did he ever let free of his control to the point that he didn't. But it would wait a moment longer, as Klaus kissed at Dorian's mouth, gentler now as the spark of heat began to abate.

"S'okay..." Light kisses were balm after rougher ones, to lips which felt clumsy and were doubtless swollen. To be certain Klaus remained close after withdrawing Dorian eased his grip on the man very little, causing the customary sated boneless sprawl to be accomplished right on top of him. It was a pleasure though, that closeness, as Klaus seemed to meld himself to his lover's form, and the weight was not so great that Dorian minded it for a few minutes.

Lazy minutes, before Klaus started to pull free o Dorian's grasp, to slide lower -- kisses to slicked skin now gentle and exploring where before they'd been nips and marking sucks. There were a few that Klaus noticed, in passing, that Dorian would have to cover come morning, He probably had one of his own... couldn't tell, didn't want to take the time yet. In the morning he'd face all of the many things he still had to face.

For now, the only thing he was facing was Dorian's cock, which received an odd smirk before Klaus did he best to engulf it.

The German had never managed to develop Dorian's finesse at sucking cock, but more than made up for lesser technique in sheer enthusiasm. Even anticipating the sensation of Klaus' lips parting, slipping their way down his heavy arousal, Dorian had no solid warning before it hit. Noises he wasn't aware of making he couldn't stifle, the first of which was a sharp gasp, followed quickly by low moaning.

Technique was something Klaus would probably never get the hang of -- it wasn't anything fancy, but it was intense, every conscious part of Klaus' body intent on giving Dorian pleasure, trying to coax, and quickly, a rush of relief. Gun-callused fingers reached between Dorian's legs, cupping and then stroking over a heavy, up-drawn sac.

When assaulted so, it wasn't fair to hold Dorian responsible for the less than quiet sounds that left him, or that his hands were less than gentle in sleek black hair as they fisted clumps, urging on the bobbing of Klaus' head. Little up-thrusts of hips were demanding, but not dangerously so, and it wasn't long until one final snap arched the blond well off the bed as Klaus finally prodded him over the edge.

A half-gag, that the stern military part of Klaus suppressed well and quickly, before he swallowed some of Dorian's semen. Come morning, they'd be a sticky mess, and so would the sheets... But as Klaus climbed sleepily over his lover's body, licking the edge of his lips fastidiously, he didn't care. His mood had improved drastically since the ball, from angry, worried and a little scared to sated and pleased with his situation. ""s good?" came the mumbled whisper of words as he slipped arms around Dorian again.

"Very. Very very." Feeling quite smugly pleased despite not being to articulate that, Dorian wasted no time in snugging as close as possible to his love. His body was slow to unwind from the tensing of release, though he suspected that when it finally did sleep would be waiting to snatch him. "Being with you makes everything better, whatever the ill."

"Hmm." It was past midnight, and unless out on a mission or surveillance, Klaus seldom stayed conscious past that. Already he was giving in, settled with Dorian snug against him.

And he fell asleep before he could even really reply.

~~~~~~~

Waking while being held snug in Klaus' arms was always pleasurable. Waking to lazily glance at the clock and discover it reading well past nine in the morning was also generally pleasant, as it was in the Earl's nature to enjoy a good bout of sleeping-in now and again. But waking to the two in conjunction, and quickly realising that there was a house full of relatives and an early breakfast to contend with sent Dorian into a very small and well-controlled panic.

"Klaus... Did you... forget to do something last night...?"

"Was...?" More of a slur than the actual question, Klaus sat up a little, blinking blearily for a moment.

And then he all but shot out of bed, and into the bathroom to make himself as presentable as possible.

Leaving Dorian to stumble after him. The Briton would have given up entirely on the thought of a shower were he not sticky still from the night's reconciliation. And climbing into the shower with Klaus was always a gamble -- not the best odds when in a hurry, as there was no telling if the temptation to play would overpower the necessity of speed. This morning he needn't have worried, though. By the time he'd finished knotting back his hair to climb in the back, Klaus was already slipping out the front of the curtain and reaching for a towel in the same motion.

Speed was imperative for Klaus, then. He dried himself off quickly, with barely a thought to where Dorian was in the process, probably burnt out his blow-dryer trying to get his hair dry quickly. No time to shave -- so he was slipping out of the bathroom at the same time Dorian was getting out of the shower. Then it was a matter of diving into his clothing with lightening speed, stripping the bed quickly and leaving the sheets wadded up beside it, then finding the most 'tolerable' clothes he could spot for Dorian.

He had brought plenty with him this trip, thankfully. No more old school suits several years out of fashion for Dorian! The blonde struggled into clothes of an elegant cut and sombre, if rich, colours. The entire process, from the first bleary moments of coherency to standing fully dressed at the door awaiting Klaus had taken no more than ten minutes, but still left the pair a half hour late for the traditional Christmas Eve breakfast.

Klaus' pace was brisk once he opened the door -- no fear of being seen by anyone, oh no! Half an hour late to the *beginning* of it meant that they were actually expected an hour earlier than the current time. "Dominic should have knocked on the door," Klaus muttered under his breath, as he all but raced down the stairs, headed towards the dining room where all -- the near family, and those extended branches that bothered to stay -- were gathered. And he had a spot waiting for him beside his father, which was currently conspicuously empty...

It would have been just as bad to wait the customary five minutes and enter after Klaus, so Dorian strode bravely in next to him and took the empty seat across the table.

Though the whole excruciating trek from the door to the table, there was no sound. Not the clink of silverware on plates, nor even whispers of gossip. Nothing.

"[I apologise for my rude lateness, Sir,]" Klaus said to his father as he sat down beside the man seated at the head of the table. He didn't miss a beat, either -- unfolded his napkin and settled it on his lap neatly. No sense in telling Heinz why, either -- it would probably do little to alleviate the man's anger.

Before answering his father picked up his coffee cup and drained several swallows, just as nonchalant as his son. "[I trust you had a pleasant... rest.]" Heinz was either in that odd calm of fury which would eventually build to an explosion, or was beyond anger entirely.

Unsure of which, the rest of the family followed his lead with nervous relief, desiring to finish off the meal with all speed and retire before the explosion, if indeed there was one coming. Conversation sputtered to life, and with it the sounds of breakfast.

Klaus' calmness seemed of the same sort he operated under when he *knew* there were Soviet guns trained on him. A sort of flat, unflaunted and well based arrogance, a sureness of himself if not the situation. A plate was placed before him, and Klaus gave a perfunctory nod to Dominic, picking up his knife to begin eating.

"[Whyever were you late, Klaus Heinz? You've always been so *punctual*,]" Kurt scowled from where he was sitting next to Klaus.

"[I failed to set my alarm. A simple oversight; the ball must have interrupted my routine. Did everyone have a pleasant evening?]"

Kurt's flat gaze swung unpleasantly to Dorian, where the Earl was busily tucking into the meal as if nothing were wrong -- as if he and Klaus weren't the absolute center of attention, and hadn't just sauntered into the room late and together. Was the rest of the family completely stupid as well as blind, or simply so spineless as to be scared of probing for an admittance? "[And you, Lord Gloria? Didn't Klaus Heinz tell you what time the meal was to be?]"

"[He did. But I neglected to rise at my customary time.]" The British Earl had the nerve to cross his hands neatly beneath his chin and return Kurt's gaze with a bland smile. Foreign, even! The man wasn't even family, and he was sitting near the head of the table, smiling and conversing as if he belonged there!

And from the way that Klaus wasn't paying it any attention at all, it was all but an approval of that behaviour!

/More like it *is* his customary time,/ Klaus sighed inwardly, taking a sip of coffee -- Dominic, bless him, had made him his Nescafe -- before going back to eating, efficiently and quickly. "[Has your stay been satisfactory, Uncle Kurt? Aunt Catherine?]"

Even if her answer wasn't intentionally given to match his mood, Kurt couldn't have been more pleased when Catherine set down her cup and said icily, "[That topic of conversation has already been used, nephew, as you would know had you been present for the first half of the meal. We've already covered the weather and politics as well, and were just working our way into gossip.]" Unspoken was that she considered it very kind of he and Dorian to provide ready fuel for that topic!

"[Then I should have missed this half of breakfast,]" Klaus murmured, chewing for a moment on a piece of bacon. "[Who is the victim of the hour?]"

The way Kurt's smile turned smug as he swung it back in Klaus' direction made the answer perfectly clear.

"[Huh.]" It didn't even seem to register with Klaus, as he nodded and finished his coffee in one smooth drink.

Frustrated, Kurt was just about to open his mouth again when he was startled speechless by his brother's voice, calmly and politely addressing the Earl, of all people! "[And you, Lord Gloria? How are you finding the hospitality of my family?]" There was no point in being angry with Klaus or his son's extravagant lover, not when he'd as much as admitted their affair last night to Kurt. Without realising he'd just taken a side, an allegiance of loyalty which he had every intention of honouring, he discovered.

It helped a great deal that Klaus *was* his son, and that the blonde Earl was for the most part proper and elegant, and a far cry better behaved than his idiot brute of a younger brother.

"[Excellent, as usual.]" Dorian wore a wide grin as he uttered the words, unsure what to make of Heinz's support, but glad that Klaus hadn't been messily disowned on the spot.

"[That's good -- I hope it's just as good as the hospitality your staff in London shows,]" Klaus murmured, finishing off a few more bites of food. His father was either running damage control, or... /Or he doesn't mind./ What an odd thought to have cross his mind! "[Aside from Mass this evening, Father, is there anything else planned?]"

"[Staff in London?]" Heinz or no, Kurt was determined to wring incriminating evidence out of the pair, and toss it like a gauntlet at the rest of the cowed family present. "[You spend a lot of time at the Earl's residence in England?]"

"[The occasional visit,]" Klaus told him. "[I'm familiar with Lord Gloria's staff because they often work with my men as back-up on missions.]"

The damned brat was going to force Heinz to do something unpleasant if he pressed any further. Slicing neatly back into the conversation, Heinz answered, "[Nothing else is planned for the day, Klaus, though at some point I think a tour of the grounds is in order. I still haven't had opportunity to fire that Soviet pistol. And for those whose nature tends more to the artistic, perhaps the Earl could talk on his favourite subject in the family gallery?]"

Suggestions rather than orders, and oddly sympathetic at that. Heinz felt more than a little troubled to barely hold back at reassuring that their yearly appointment with the library sofa would not be spoiled if he could at all help it. He should be delighted at the thought of them being disturbed, shouldn't he?

"[Then why don't you and I go out to fire it now?]" Klaus asked, already starting to his feet.

"[Oh, Klaus -- at lunch, you should really take a group of the female guests down to the town and give them a tour,]" Catherine told him with the most wicked vicious smile on her lips.

"[I'm not looking for marriage prospects, Aunt Catherine -- no reason to waste anyone's time with it. My job is too dangerous for women to become involved.]" Klaus' voice was firm as he said *that*, looking over to his father. "[The Bear Cub's gun is in the gun-room. Shall I meet you out back?]"

"[Yes.]" Heinz setting his napkin on the table and taking his feet marked the official end of the meal.

Stragglers like Dorian kept their seats, though the majority of the troublemakers rose and left, he was pleased to see. It must not have been any fun to gossip when the target of said gossip was present and able to defend himself. Those Eberbachs remaining were of the younger, more sympathetic sort, and he was soon pulled into a conversation about London and the marvellous museums it housed, which he would have enjoyed very much were he not still not more tightly wound than a clock spring.

There had been no outburst, but that didn't mean one wasn't in the works. Even if Heinz had eased over the years, the thought of father and son alone in the woods with a loaded pistol did not particularly please Dorian.

But there was comfort, of a sorts, that if it came to *THAT* Klaus was still the better, quicker shot.

The young heir himself went into the gun-room first, picked up the Soviet pistol, and two clips -- one for that gun, a second for his Magnum that he'd quickly slid on that morning. A shift of his shoulders made the holster easier to access, if more obtrusive, before he headed out the back door.

On the same steps that Klaus had barred his path several years before, Heinz was waiting for his son. Clad in his jacket, with Klaus' over an arm, he looked... expectant. Nothing more. "[Beautiful morning for it, isn't it?]" Words were released into the crisp air with a puff of white, and when he shifted on the steps what snow had accumulated overnight crunched beneath his feet.

Klaus reached for and deftly snagged his jacket, slipping it on with comfortable familiarity even though it was still new-feeling because the last one had been lost to bullet holes and rips from a mission. "[The storm must have stopped last evening,]" Klaus observed, handing his father the pistol and extra clip.

From somewhere the elder Eberbach had produced a pair of fingerless shooting gloves, which he tugged on neatly before accepting the weapon. "[Yes.]" A stupid remark as it added nothing to the conversation, but responding was ingrained, though Heinz clearly had other things on his mind than making adequate small talk as he launched off the steps.

Klaus followed with smooth, long-legged strides, as he reached beneath coat and his suit's jacket to pull free his Magnum of the holster Dorian had given him the year before. "[Is there anything you wish to say to me?]" Seemed like he did, but Klaus decided he wouldn't press too far.

"[There is.]" Not that Heinz ever had problems broaching even the most delicate of subjects, but it was pleasant to have an understanding between the two of them. Heinz would come to the point and say what he felt needed saying, and Klaus would listen, and having done their duties they would settle back into their uneasy truce. "[The family is talking. You must know, but... you do not seem to care. I would ask that if you mean to... make your... relationship with the Earl common knowledge, that you warn me first.]"

That sounded so accepting! But Heinz was beyond protest, beyond the desire to protect a family he increasingly felt was not deserving of protection.

Stunning things to hear from his father's mouth, so much so that his grip on his gun actually loosened slightly. This acceptance of sorts was unexpected and had somehow developed without him noticing. Perhaps Heinz was simply giving up on him... Or perhaps he'd decided that his son wasn't such a waste. At dinner the year before he'd been barely able to stand the notion.

The glance Klaus gave him was a curious one, slightly confused; he switched to English just in case there was anyone nearby or... well, if someone were listening to them, they could find out what he was saying if they tried hard enough. "I plan to not deny it; it's... wearing on my nerves and Dorian's to put up a face of not being involved."

Just as it was draining on Heinz to have to contend with whispers and rumours, shadows of accusations. Always a direct man, it was deeply frustrating to not have anything tangible to defend against. Almost it would be preferable for the whole matter to be admitted and be done with. At least then he could yell and curse and throw some things, and quietly retire to his house in Switzerland and resume life as usual.

English was hard after so many years of not speaking it, and his words were clipped and heavily accented. "[The family will hate you. I... have decided I would rather be proud of you for the good things you have done than side with your worm of an uncle in reveling in the bad.]" His hands fidgeted with the pistol, the steel already chilled beneath bare fingers.

"Thank you, sir," Klaus murmured, falling quiet for a moment as they walked, looking for the targets he'd been assured by Dominic that would be left set up for them. "I don't care if the family hates me; they've never liked me to begin with. There's no reason for me to pander to them."

Except for his duties as head of the family, which were falling back to Heinz as Klaus neglected them, but that argument was so thread-bare it wasn't worth uttering again. "Our ancestor Tyrian was himself a rather unpopular man. History remembers the strong, Klaus, not the amiable." It was so odd to give back to his son reassurances Heinz had been telling himself incessantly for the past year.

"History does not remember classified information," Klaus countered, finding finally the little clay targets that were seemingly too far away to pick off properly. Yet, he sighted it cleanly, gun held firm in his right hand, and then pulled the trigger. Just as neatly as it had been sighted, the Magnum shattered the clay solidly, the 'boom' nearly deafening on that quiet morning.

The re-coil barely jerked Klaus' arm at all -- just an imperceivable tightening of muscle. "It will be easier, I think, to attend to my family duties once this is all out in the open."

Heinz's turn was next. He loaded the clip while nodding in appreciation for both the excellent marksmanship and Klaus' logic, and, steady though not with his son's smooth speed raised the Soviet weapon and sighted. His finger caressed the trigger, sending a bullet screaming at the target, nicking its edge.

"It pulls a little," he commented, mentally adjusting his aim accordingly for the next shot.

Klaus had noticed no such problem in his firing of the weapon, though it had been in a tense fury of unexpected gunfire, so... So perhaps it did pull. Or his father's age was finally starting to slow him. "It's Soviet," Klaus dismissed with a smile, eyes glinting viciously for a moment before he fired a second shot, shattering the target Heinz had nicked. "Quite a prize."

"A fine trophy," Heinz concurred. One which would have made a superb family heirloom, with a wonderful story to accompany its passing through generations, had only Klaus any children of his own. There were few in the younger generation who had any appreciation for such things though, and none who would attend to gun collection with the care Klaus had.

It seemed the only thing that Klaus would truly fail at -- because Klaus' honour wouldn't let him risk even the hint of infidelity with his chosen partner. "Yes, it is." And there would be no-one to tend to it after him...

Which brought to his mind again the pamphlet that Dominic had insisted he look at. Well, best to remain silent on that until and if a decision was ever made. Dorian would probably dislike immensely the idea... "Perhaps there will eventually be another Eberbach who would care for such a thing."

"Ironic... I believe your mother once said the same of the family art collection. She was slightly bemused, I think, to see you at such a young age already following closely in my footsteps." Always a painful subject, but one Heinz had opened up a little on. It was as if, in defying the family on choice of mate, he and Klaus had yet one more thing in common to loosely draw them together.

"Even then?" Klaus knew little of his early child-hood -- things long past forgotten. He remembered the funeral as a vague painful thing, his mother's face a little, her playing piano in the music room, but... Clearer was being brought up in a cold, quite household and then shuttled off to boarding school.

"Even then." There were several more rounds in the Soviet weapon, but Heinz wasn't particularly keen on firing them. He just caressed his thumb along the gun's grip absently, lost in memory. "You were quite precocious, right up until the day she died. Then... all I remember is a quiet, stern boy, the times you came home on vacation from school."

No shots fired, either, from Klaus, as he studied his father's expression, listened to his words. /That's all I was taught to be./ And now he was learning other skills that seemed second nature to most people. How to relax without too much effort, how to open up to others even the slightest bit, how to not be painfully *alone*. "And the reports sent to you about my fighting." And probably a few notes slipped in those reports about his suspected smoking habit, which was quite well concealed by his finding quiet places to smoke and hide.

"Fighting." Heinz dismissed that misconduct with a snort. "It is something boys do. Some just happen to be better at it than others, and of those the best make careers of it."

"It's come in handy," Klaus murmured a bit wryly, sliding his slightly over-heated gun back into the holster. "I'm glad, sir, that you're not going to further contest my decision." Just as there had been little contention over his decision to transfer from the tank corps to intelligence.

With an uncharacteristically melancholy sigh, Heinz released the clip from the Soviet gun and handed both pieces back to Klaus. Briefly he weighed what an admission would cost him, and decided it a fair trade for the understanding it would bring. "It was... difficult for me to contemplate at first, and worse to accept. But you are enough like myself that I can recognise when I'm defeated."

The clip was slid back in though, safety flicked in place, and then Klaus tucked the gun into his ox-hide belt, concealed with skill. "Your..." /No, wrong path to take./ "It's a decision that faced me for years before I could dare to decide; I was aware that there was something... wrong when I was still in boarding school." Mostly that none of the many girls in the town could even catch his eye, let alone his interest.

Which was to say that Klaus had had such leanings well before his association with the Earl of Gloria. The desire to blame Dorian for corrupting his son had been very strong at first, especially when it became apparent that Klaus was prepared to defend the man ferociously from such attacks.

Heinz shoved his hands in his pockets and turned for the house. "Do you know... I still might deny it if I hadn't seen with my own eyes. I'm... sorry for that -- for not being more... alert."

It only made sense that Klaus would follow, even though they walked slowly. No real rush to return to the games being played within those walls. "I don't see how you could have been."

"I didn't say it was possible. It is just one thing I might change, if it were."

It was probably the most sincere apology Klaus would ever get from his father. And it was accepted as open-heartedly as Klaus could manage. A quiet, but firm, "Thank you." Which was more than sufficient for both men, who fell into a co-ordinated silence the rest of the way back to the house.

~~~~~

The servants had been hard pressed to gather up and arrange all of the gifts that were to be given and 'exchanged' within the family Eberbach. Some of the family had gifts for every member, and some had gifts for few; some would receive many, some would get few, but that evening, only one gift per person was to be opened. The rest would come on Christmas morning, in a flurry that would be hard to keep track of givers and receivers.

Dinner had been as tense and biting as breakfast, and then Klaus had led the way into the hall, which was now properly dark. Lit only with the tree's bright glow.

"[Father, why don't you pick a gift first?]"

As patriarch of the family, Heinz would likely score the most gifts, though perhaps not the most lovingly chosen ones. Obligatory gifts he was used to receiving with the expected pleasant grace, though considering the strain the family was experiencing, it would be even more difficult than usual to this year muster sincerity. From beneath the tree he chose a small package, plain, the giver unknown.

It was wrapped in plain brown paper, nothing special-looking until it was opened under the family's watchful eyes. A simple wooden case was revealed, but Heinz instantly recognised the smell. Lifting the lid revealed it to be a humidor brimming with his favourite cigars. And a small card that made it clear to him that it was from Dominic.

A very thoughtful gift from a long-time friend. This thank-you came easily, with a smile across the room to where the butler hovered at the family's edge. Heinz was pleased now that he'd put a good effort into choosing something nice for Dominic in return.

The butler had proven loyal over the years, a good, dear friend... who, though of lower status than his family, was perhaps more what family *should* be than those he shared blood with.

The burden of choosing who next fell on Heinz' shoulders -- Klaus' only duty just then was to be respectful as possible, and to have started the semi-event.

Of course he would pass to his son. It was expected that the heir would open his gift second, and even if it hadn't been tradition to follow that order, Heinz would have done it anyway. From there Klaus could decide who to let go next, and simply for the sake of annoying Kurt, Heinz outrageously hoped Dorian's chance would come before any of the rest of the family.

"[Klaus... Which would you like?]" Still near the tree, Heinz hovered over his son's pile of gifts.

It was small, though not as small as it would have been if there hadn't been those horrible obligatory gifts that ended up either thrown out of given away once the family had left. No-one beyond first cousins bothered to give him anything, which was fine with Klaus.

Dorian's gift wasn't hard for him to spot. In amongst the normal looking gifts, it's bright wrapping and exquisite-looking bow nearly screamed 'Eroica'. "[That one, sir.]"

Heinz ceremoniously presented it with both hands, while behind him whispers were passed, as the family tried to determine who the giver was. Heinz knew, though, judging by the hint of a smile lingering at the edge of his lips.

Beside Klaus, Dorian was a ball of excitement, having to sit on his hands to keep them from fidgeting. Oh, he hoped he'd chosen as well this year as the year before!

Klaus was just hoping that Dorian would like whatever gift he picked from under the tree. Klaus had made it pretty clear which were his by wrapping them in identical paper -- the same paper he'd used the last two years.

As always, he made no show as he opened it. All the care was taken as if it were evidence to be dealt with, but he was smiling. Just a little, certainly more than he had on any other occasion during such a gathering.

The gift's exquisite wrapping proved to be highly at odds with what Klaus discovered inside the box. Sandwiched neatly between layers of crisp, filmy paper was a book. A very stern and un-lovely book, bound neatly in utilitarian navy. On the cover was a label declaring only 'Leopard -- Model B-1'.

The watching room could see Klaus lift it free of the paper, eyebrows shooting upwards as he opened it. Technical diagrams -- official technical diagrams for a B-1 Leopard! "Lord Gloria..." He turned, to look at Dorian, expression writ with *true* enjoyment -- nearly glee. He wanted to hug the man tightly, then interrogate him on how he got them! They had to be stolen... "*Thank* you. [Why don't you choose next?]"

Beside his son, Heinz wore a nearly identical expression of shocked pleasure. Those plans were classified! But he'd glimpsed enough as Klaus flipped pages to know they were also genuine. It would be such a rare treat to pour over them that he could even overlook that they'd probably been acquired illegally.

"You really like it?" By his expression Dorian could tell that he did, and felt relief to have chosen well yet again. It wasn't so much a matter of knowing Klaus' tastes as being able to meet them with a gift that could also be given publicly. He wondered idly as he chose from among his tiny pile a gift -- one he knew to be Klaus', of course -- if Klaus hadn't had the same problem.

Nodding in answer to Dorian's question, Klaus could only hope that Dorian had chosen the more presentable of the two gifts to open. Although, if the less presentable one were opened, it would certainly make for an interesting evening... "Yes, Dorian -- it's... perfect."

While Kurt and the rest of the family looked on in consternation that an outsider should be allowed to open his gift before the rest of them, Dorian happily tore into the packaging of the gift, making short work of it. Inside he found a small box, and wasted no time in ripping off the cover.

Within was a small sheaf of well worn papers, and a plain wooden box that had a small key at the front -- a key that begged turning, and Dorian was no man to resist. The moment he released it, fully wound, it began to play music. A familiar tune to him, one that he'd heard Klaus play before.

The German man beside him was silent as it began to play, waiting to reaction for the gift that had been meant for their anniversary and not Christmas.

The reaction he waited so anxiously for was an eternity in coming. Dorian was frozen, the little music box cupped comfortably in his palm as it spilled the bright notes of Klaus' secretly-finished composition. It was... stunning, the most stunningly perfect gift Dorian could imagine, and he didn't dare move for the fear he would do something uncontrollable and stupid, like grab Klaus in public and smother him with kisses.

"Oh- " Barely in time he swallowed down the exclamation of 'Darling' that had been forthcoming. "It's... It's beautiful, Klaus." What pleasure he was brave enough to display was poured into his over-bright sapphire eyes and from there directed at his lover. "Thank you."

The message was plainly received, from the expression Klaus was trying his damndest to school down. "I'm glad you like it." The conversation was not going to switch to German -- their continued use of English was an attempt to hold a closed conversation in a room filled with Klaus' familial relations. "Now... choose someone to have go next." /So I'll have to stop looking at you, before I do something indiscreet.../

The safest Dorian could imagine to go next was one of the younger cousins he'd managed to be actually friendly with, and who in turn looked quite shocked to be chosen to go next. She blushed with embarrassed pleasure while opening her gift, as the rest of the older relatives scowled at the marked deviation from the tradition of privileged seniority.

It gave Dorian and Klaus the chance to creep out of the spotlight, but not the freedom either would have liked, to thank each other more thoroughly for the gifts.

The path travelled through, going through the younger cousins first, then over to Erich -- who received some expensive watch or another -- who of course passed it to Kurt.

Klaus paid it all no attention, though -- he kept looking at the neatly bound diagrams and then over to Dorian, hoping that the man knew it was his anniversary gift he held. And just how much courage it had taken him to have his tune made into a music-box. It wasn't quite an up-beat piece, but it was intricate and certainly held a lot of Klaus to it -- lifting to a swell of notes at the end, and then a coda that linked it all together before it started over.

When the sound slowed and died, Dorian lifted a finger to stroke along the polished wood, but did not re-wind the key. Later he would, when they were alone and he could tell Klaus what he truly thought of the gift. Words weren't sufficient for the task -- it would require lots and lots of kisses.

Green-grey eyes tracked the movement of nimble thief's fingers, barely aware that he was being spoken to.

"[Klaus Heinz?]" His Aunt Catherine, trying to get his attention, probably for who knew what reason...

"Yes?" he asked, in English, startled slightly.

Her face screwed more tightly into an expression of distaste, for his use of English. "[It's almost time to go to mass. Aren't you going to prepare transportation for everyone?]"

That got his mind going again, as he realised the others were starting to move, departing to their rooms to touch up clothing. "[Yes. How many need to be driven there?]"

Her eyes flicked with impatience to the hall. "[All assembled, I would imagine. It's not my duty to keep track of the family.]"

For a moment his gaze flattened, as he rose to his feet, the gift from Dorian still in his hands, even though the box and wrappings had been shuffled off to be disposed of. "[What I meant, Aunt Catherine, is how many are going to drive there themselves?]"

"[How am I supposed to know that?]" she snapped, turning on a heel to head from the room. "[Best to call all the drivers, at any rate.]"

This was the sort of thing he hated about his family; that was *normal* for them. But he kept his expression flat, and nodded before he walked off to find Dominic, who had surely rounded up the drivers.

Leaving Dorian in the room with his family.

That didn't last long. For a minute Dorian was alone in a wide circle, his thoughts firmly on the significance of the music box and not realising that he was being shunned. Not that he cared when he finally did -- making a general excuse that no one paid any attention to and leaving for his and Klaus' room.

A room that he was sure would remain his and Klaus'.

The small box, and the tune within it, stood for so much that was intangible, things that Klaus couldn't put into words often if ever. He wasn't a man of words, though 'I love you' was getting easier for him to say. He was a man of action, even if the action was the caress of callused fingers over ivory.

Perching on the edge of their bed, the blonde re-wound the music box. Its complex music trickled through the room, keeping him company until the man who had created it returned from his chore.

There was a returning 'I love you' on Dorian's lips, the instant Klaus cleared the door and closed it softly behind him. Holding the wooden box still, the thief launched himself at his lover, the rush of firmly leashed joy finally pulling free. "Oh, Darling! It's *beautiful*!"

"I... finally finished working the kinks out of the piece," Klaus smiled, drawing energy from Dorian's sheer enthusiasm. "I'm not going to ask where you stole the diagrams from -- Dorian, *thank* *you*. It's wonderful."

"Oh, they're just something I had floating around..." Dorian pushed away the thanks with unusual modesty. That was truth -- he had another present readied for Klaus, one that would far eclipse a sheaf of dull papers. But that would have to wait until tomorrow, although the mere thought of it brought a secretive smile to the Briton's lips.

"Floating aroundÖ" Klaus chuckled just a little, shaking his head. He *wanted* to be angry at Dorian for the gift, that it was stolen, and should have been, only he knew that he wouldn't misuse it. No, it would sit on his shelf to be mulled over often. "The only non-aesthetic heist Eroica's ever pulled. Come on -- I'm driving us."

Dorian pulled back after placing a quick kiss to Klaus' lips. "It was for a suitably high and romantic cause, for the record. After all, I wouldn't want my reputation ruined."

Not that such a theft would ruin his reputation any more than Klaus' would be ruined by giving Dorian a music box for Christmas... in full view of his family. "The tune... it's for our anniversary. Your actual Christmas gift..." He shrugged -- it was nice, but not half as meaningful.

"Anniversary..." Dorian adopted the particular expression he wore when trying desperately to hide something important from the one man in the world who knew better. "The specs were really for Christmas. Your real gift will have to wait until later."

Later...? With Dorian, later could mean the next day, or later could mean one of many other tempting things that *evening*. "Don't tell me; we have to go to Mass." And see if Dorian's aesthetics would be highly offended by a fully Catholic mass.

Doubtful -- Dorian had in the past expressed his appreciation for the Catholic church, if for nothing greater than its position as one of the premiere art-holders in the world. Religion of any type lack appeal for the Earl, but pageantry appealed plenty, and a midnight Mass had enough of that to keep him occupied for the hour and a half it would run.

The monotony of sit, stand, sit, stand would assure Klaus' consciousness in spurts, at least, so perhaps they would manage. Klaus pulled back fully to open the door, uncaring as to anyone standing outside.

Most of the family was already outside. The various older aunts and uncles would have already left, as early arrival would ensure a good, enviable seat in a pew at the front of the cathedral, where piousness could be flaunted enough to ensure they didn't have to attend another service for the rest of the year. The few stragglers were too busy organising rides to give the two men more than a passing glance as they left their bedroom.

So he and Dorian made their way cleanly downstairs and then to the back of the house to Klaus' familiar Benz. He unlocked it quickly, letting it run to warm it up nicely while Dorian slipped in, and he pulled out an ice-scraper to touch up the windshield. Little things that some of his relatives disdained to deal with, but he loved.

Then again, most of his relatives preferred to be chauffeured around, disdaining to even open automobile doors for themselves! Klaus' car, along with Heinz's, which was already gone, had the distinction of being garaged. Sure that no one would see, Dorian leaned for a lingering kiss as Klaus got in, the warmed fingers of his ungloved hand touching tenderly his lover's chilled cheek. "After this, do we have the rest of the holiday to ourselves?"

"No. After tomorrow afternoon it will be just us and Father. And he'll leave on the 27th." Giving them nearly four days alone in the house, which was more than enough to enjoy themselves properly.

"I'm glad." Judging by the pleased set to his lips, Dorian was thinking similar thoughts concerning having the house to themselves. "We won't have to do this again next year, will we?" That came out in a near-whimper.

"Fuck no." Klaus shifted the car into gear, and backed the purring beast into the short turn-around, then onto the drive proper. "I'll *find* us a mission first."

"Find us one...? How about I engineer one?" Considering how unpleasant some aspects of this Christmas had been, that wasn't an idle threat.

"It's the same as finding one," Klaus murmured with all seriousness as they started to roll down the drive towards the gates. "Or just go to London and stay there."

For the first time in a while Dorian had the courage -- or lack of sense -- to suggest, "You could always spend the next Christmas with *my* little family. I know that's as good as an admission of our affair, but..." But Dorian's men were discrete, and a hell of a lot more loose and fun than the Eberbachs!

He wouldn't agree to that with an exact admission to liking the idea, but... "Your men must miss having you around on the holidays."

That earned the German a warm chuckle. "They've long since realised that they can't compete for my attentions with you, my love."

"At least you haven't stopped stealing. If you did that, they'd be heart-broken." There was another car, chauffeured, about a hundred feet in front of them, so Klaus took the drive much slower than he would have liked to.

He wasn't quite the flying-gravel squealing-tires driver that Dorian liked to be at times, but slow didn't suit Klaus' personality either. If he remained trapped behind the slow-moving vehicle for too much longer, Dorian knew grumbling would be unavoidable. "Ah -- but they are suspicious that you're putting me on the path to righteousness. I really should pull a few spectacular jobs just to reassure them."

"You family thinks I'm straightening you out? Ha. Mine's sure you've bent me," he sighed, shifting his hands on the steering wheel. They were *stuck* behind it, and to pass on the other side of the road, where any arriving traffic would come in would have been seen as extremely rude. "Christmas with your family sounds good."

"Really?" Dorian shifted to smile at his lover. "It's an appointment, then! And, I might extend the offer to attend to your Alphabet, provided you don't think association with my family wouldn't ruin them." That, and provided Klaus was ready to admit his relationship with Dorian outright. Both sides had only guessed at it for years.

"They already like your men more than me," Klaus reminded him, tone half truthful and half joke. A and Bonham got along very well, and so did Jones and Z; most of Dorian's thieves did, in fact, get along with at least one Alphabet and visa versa. "My men already know." Which was to say that A had noticed and kept quiet, and Z had probably said something vaguely related and Klaus hadn't bitten his head off for it.

"Wonderful!" Suddenly Christmas of the next year was seeming a very long time away. Dorian was wondering if he could step up plans and suggest a New Year's celebration. "About the holiday, I mean." Not that Klaus' men already knew. That made him pleased, but it was a secret sort of pleasure he wasn't going to flaunt.

"I bet." He could hear the eye-roll in that tone, even if Klaus didn't execute it. "When I was shot in Czechoslovakia, Dorian. Do you remember the cabin?"

"Of course." How could he not? His heart had taken up residence in his throat to see all the blood, and had stayed there all night, even when Klaus had been tended to and had fallen into a shallow, even sleep, Dorian half-curled in his lap.

It have been in late October -- the wound had healed neatly compared to some of the scars Klaus had on his body. The paperwork alone for that mission had taken so long that Klaus had recovered fully before that last mission in Naples that had been such a breeze. "I remember you wouldn't let A or Z near me."

"They wanted to hover," Dorian replied, adding firmly, "I'm the only one who should have that right. You'd already been fixed up the best that any of us could manage. They couldn't do anything better for you than the comfort my touch could give."

"And I wasn't protesting and screaming at you to not touch me." In fact, they'd both practically crawled into each other's arms once the wound had been bound, for warmth and comfort, waiting for their Soviet trackers to hopefully pass them by. It had been tense, and reminiscent of the mission in Alaska, but they'd gotten out alive with the film negatives. "We all be wrote it in a declaration, signed it in blood, and handed it to them."

"So they know. So what?" Dorian tried for nonchalance, failing despite the admirable attempt. "There aren't many who don't anymore. Your family, I think, are the last." Even Klaus' Chief probably knew by now!

"You're right. It hasn't changed how things go either." Which was a blessing. He and Dorian still clashed sometimes on missions, the Alphabets still knew that *he* was Major Eberbach, and that the mission would be done, correctly and fast as possible. Just because he had a lover, nothing could be expected to go slack. And the snide remarks from other agencies were no worse than before. Sometimes he realised that the FBI had every right to think of him as an asshole. "It's setting in that everyone already thought we were lovers."

Dorian snorted in soft amusement at that. "And who are we to disappoint the gossip hounds?" Neither his nor Klaus' reputation could suffer for making truth out of what everyone already believed of them. Convincing Klaus of that had been the hard part, though...

It had taken time, instead of arguments, and watching other's reactions as things developed -- just a matter of letting Klaus wear down his views on his own. "There's no gossip in *my* office." Not to his face, and what was uttered behind his back was done fearfully, Klaus reminded himself with satisfaction.

Conversation was thankfully taking his mind off of the slow car in front of them. They'd already driven down to the town itself, turning off to head to a church that was either a large chapel, or a small cathedral. It was small, sized just enough to hold those in the town that were there and the Eberbach family, but highly stylised.

Regardless of what Dorian would choose to call it had he been asked, he decided that the architecture was to his liking, gothic and stately, the sort of building one expected to hold all manner of pretty statues and religious iconery. "I've never been to a Mass before," he informed Klaus as they headed up the front stairs. "Not seriously, at any rate. I've fidgeted through parts of them, while preparing for jobs."

"Don't *tell* me these things," Klaus told him, leading the way into the front hall and then stopping in the doorway of the sanctuary to drop quickly to one knee, crossing himself before rising again. He and Dorian would be expected to sit with the family, but probably a blessed row or two back from the front. Personally he preferred to sleep in the very back, when given a choice.

The art of Catholic piousness evaded Dorian, who neglected to follow Klaus' example. He hoped he wouldn't stand out too badly for his inexperience during the Mass, and wondered what, if any, motions he would be expected to adhere to.

There were, Klaus realised as he walked down the centre aisle, looking for a spot, things that he'd neglected to tell Dorian. That only Catholics were supposed to receive communion in the church, asked if he knew any of the prayers, if his German was strong enough to handle a full mass. It seemed more and more like the best solution would be to find the end of a pew and sit there with Dorian.

The architecture Dorian had admired to seemed to be on their side this evening. Evenly-spaced support columns disrupted the ranks of pews here and there, and without thinking Dorian ducked into one such row. Ahead and behind they were still surrounded by revellers, but with the column to his right and Klaus to his left, there was an illusion of seclusion.

There was room there for others to sit with them -- third set of pews from the front -- yet Klaus knew it would be a good gauge of his position in the family's games if anyone sat beside them. "When we go home, Dorian, shall we go into the library?"

"I'd been planning on it." Apparently it was fine to speak before the Mass began, so long as it was in hushed tones. Dorian didn't mind at all leaning close to accomplish that.

"You had?" Klaus couldn't help but smile a little at that -- he'd wanted at least a little time with Dorian that day, spent *not* holed up hiding in their bedroom.

"It's tradition," the blonde offered simply. "You know what a great supporter I am of that."

"A new tradition...?" After opening gifts the year before they'd slipped into the library and both gotten a little drunk. Which had been fun in and off itself, given that there was an odd humour in looking over family pictures while drunk.

Sitting close, it was an easy thing to surreptitiously slip his arm around Klaus', with no one else the wiser. "Yes." After that first night, it was a place of pleasant memories for the pair, and each year they added to those.

"Did you bring any wine of your own, so you can't complain about the Moselle I drink?" Klaus' mood was lifting, and despite being in a church filled with his family, he was seeming *himself*.

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with the Moselle." Smiling lightly, Dorian leaned further to breathe his words into Klaus' ear. "It's just better as an accompaniment to a meal than for drinking straight. You really should try som-" He jerked back, startled, just as a voice cleared itself with less-than gentle purpose at the end of the pew.

"[Nephew. I assume this seat is available?]" Without waiting for reply, Kurt bustled himself in next to Klaus and sat heavily on the plain wood.

"[Uncle Kurt,]" Klaus said in the most gracious tone he could possibly muster up as he looked at his uncle. "[Was the drive good?]"

"[It was acceptable.]" The look he cast over his nephew and nephew's friend was smug and knowing. It was a good thing he'd decided to sit with the pair. Otherwise, who knew the embarrassment they might put the family through with inappropriate behaviour!

Klaus drew a little closer into himself, loosing the contact of Dorian's arm but still sitting close beside him. "[I'm glad to hear that -- Father and Aunt Catherine sitting at the front?]"

"[Probably.]" Kurt had no explanation for why he chose not to sit with them, although his motives were easy enough to guess. "[You should be sitting with them, Klaus Heinz.]"

"[As should you, Uncle,]" Klaus said, meeting his uncle's eyes with a hard, clear gaze. "[Why aren't you sitting up there?]"

Sniffing dryly, the old man crossed his arms. "[I am doing you a favour, and the family a good that you don't seemed concerned enough to do it. Sitting alone here, with your foreign 'friend'...]" he sneered more than said the word. "[People will talk. You should have some sense.]"

"[People have talked for years, Uncle Kurt. Do you believe you've stumbled across some new fact?]" Hearing that from Klaus, in his powerful voice, though toned down for conversation in a sanctuary, must have been stunning to a degree -- he'd just all but declared it!

It was more than enough to stun Kurt into speechlessness, though to Klaus' right Dorian was making very soft sounds of amusement. Unfortunately it wasn't enough to make Kurt get up and find another place to sit. Finally recovered, he hissed, "[Disgraceful! You ought to be ashamed!]"

"[Why?]" He knew why -- he *knew* why he 'ought' to be ashamed... but he wanted to hear it from Kurt himself.

"[Sitting in a church, and he dares to ask 'why'!]" Kurt was torn between angry glances to his unrepentant nephew, and the desire to not burden his eyes with the sight of the man.

"[I've already sinned by killing. Often. It isn't as if I'm going to get last rites when I die on duty.]"

"Klaus..." If there was no reason to hide from Klaus' uncle something the man already knew, Dorian wasn't about to give up the pleasure of holding his lover's hand. In the space between their nearly-touching thighs, warmed fingers found and wove with Klaus'. "It's no use arguing with him. He'll never understand."

"I barely do." But he understood, without words, Dorian's grasp, looking at slender thief's fingers twining with his still gloved ones. Then he looked at his uncle again, expression sharp, every bit the Major challenging the man to say something. "[I ask why.]"

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, then realised that although no one was looking at them directly, no few ears were craned attentively in their direction. Around them was a little circle devoid of conversation, one he was not about to fill with the fuel for even more gossip! "[This is neither the appropriate time nor place, nephew. Later.]"

"[If one of us says something regrettable, we can go repent after mass. We have a few more minutes, Uncle Kurt -- let us finish this,]" Klaus all but growled at the older man. That was a tone he'd *never* used with his father, even during that argument the year before.

Unfortunately, Kurt was possessed of less sense than Heinz. Even such a strong tone could not dissuade him from snarling, "[So long as you and your perversions are a part of this family, it will never be 'finished.' Your father should have disowned you. If you were mine, I'd have done it. But I should thank you rather than lecture you. That blonde Earl will never bear you children. The Eberbach line will continue in another direction, infused with stronger, better blood.]"

Strangely, Klaus wasn't discouraged in the least by his uncle's sneering statement. "[You're right -- it will find a new direction.]"

That agreement confused Kurt, who glared at his nephew strangely before falling into sullen silence.

Dorian, wondering but not overly so, tightened his hand lightly within Klaus'. "Darling... Will this pettiness never end?"

"It's Christmas," the German mused, as if that were the answer to Dorian's question, slipping his hand free -- but only to take off both his gloves, pocketing them. "It doesn't matter."

Pleased beyond measure when Klaus' bared fingers found his again, Dorian settled in to enjoy as much as he could the Mass.

It was a blessing to not have a concrete grasp of non-secular German. The British man found himself falling more into the cadence of the priest's speaking, rather than the words themselves. There was familiarity in the feeling of ritual if in nothing else, and Dorian was kept occupied with studying the building's decorations, and with following the lead of the other attendees when responses were expected of them.

The Mass even prevented more angry grumbling from Kurt, who after it was concluded vacated the pew in a rush, to go be and be seen with the rest of the family at the head of the church.

The singing had been what kept Klaus awake. He had a nice voice and seldom used it -- so for Dorian to hear his lover's voice singing the German versions of familiar carols was a pleasant treat. So was the contact Klaus made of grasped hands whenever they were both seated.

Klaus had never suspected he would actually enjoy a Christmas Mass; and once service was over, priest departed and his wallet lightened into the collection basket, he made sure Dorian was at his side as he wove through his family, smiling and nodding to certain members of it, intent on greeting his father on what was *now* Christmas morning. Just anything at all to hint at how pleased he was of his support.

Heinz was in the vestibule, surrounded by a talking, smiling group of relations and friends as all were reaching slowly for coats and hats. As he spotted Klaus, his own smile flickered amazingly into something even brighter, approaching more closely a true smile than anything Klaus had seen on his father's lips in years.

"[Good... morning, sir,]" Klaus called once he was in hearing range. "[Back to the Schloss for a few hours of sleep before the un-wrapping escapade?]"

"[Yes.]" Neither had opened their gifts to each other yet, and Heinz was particularly proud this year to have chosen personally, with interest for the first time in years, his gift for his son. "[Go ahead, you two. I can see everyone else back home and settled.]"

"[We'll be in the library if we're needed, Father. Send Dominic to knock when everyone gets up.]" Which would be early. So early that he and Dorian could trade sleep for coffee and tea, and be all right. Then, with a slight smile he turned from his father, towards Dorian.

"The library," Dorian repeated, sparing for Heinz a shy smile over Klaus' shoulder. "And then, more presents!" He darenít say more for fear of giving something away, but he was desperately excited about the surprise he had planned for Klaus. "Would you mind if I brought the music box? I could be ecstatically happy just listening to it, and sitting in your arms..."

"Bring the music box," Klaus told him, as they left the church and entered the cold air beyond. "I have the negatives from A's camera -- you'll enjoy looking at them."

Smiling broadly, Dorian pulled a hand back through his hair. "Remind me to have a talk with that boy. If he really wants pictures to make it out of that office beneath your nose, he's going to have to use a concealed camera." Nevertheless, the negatives would be fun to look at, as A had an uncanny knack for catching truthful photographs of his subjects.

"No-one takes pictures of *anything* in my office, Dorian -- not even Eroica," Klaus reminded him in a rumble of voice as they walked across the icy parking lot to his Benz. "I should have reprimanded him more than just a yelling."

In the parking lot, and uncaring anymore who saw them together, Dorian wrapped both his arms around Klaus' and briefly rested his cheek on the man's shoulder. "Believe me, Darling. A yelling from you is plenty punishment for anything short of selling incriminating photographs of the Chief and G to the Soviets."

"If it was just photos of the Chief, now, that wouldn't get a yelling for being sold to the Soviets. Doing that to the old burn-out would get a congratulations," Klaus decided as he slid an arm around Dorian's waist.

"Remind me to suggest that course of action the next time one of your men comes terrified to me for interference between them and a furious Iron Klaus." Not that that had ever happened, mainly because the Alphabets knew that going to Eroica for advice would be just as bad as dealing with whatever problem they might have with their superior. The arm around his waist was lovely, and Dorian reciprocated, pressing hips with his lover.

"Anyone who took photos of the Chief that were incriminating, though..." Dorian could feel his lover shiver in disgust through where they were pressed close. "Get a Medal of Bravery, too... When we get back, I'll get Dominic to make you tea. Everyone gets up so early there's no point in us going to sleep."

"I would say not to bother the poor man, but he'll be up and fussing over the rest of the family, won't he?" Dorian was accustomed to fending for himself, to the best of his abilities, in the Schloss' large kitchen.

"Probably." Klaus pulled away from Dorian long enough to open the door of his beloved Benz, and slide into the driver's seat. "We can do it ourselves if we get there soon -- few will be there when we arrive." And no one would disturb them in the library once he'd locked the doors from the inside.

"The library for you, then. Start us a fire and chase off any interlopers, and I'll bring tea and something nice to munch." And the music box, and a nice snuggly blanket from the closet of their room.

But if he'd told Klaus that, in those exact words, he would have been chided a little and probably seen his lover blush. Just then his smile was too nice to spoil, born of a feeling of victory at last over his family. Even if it had been a quiet one.

Settled in the car, Dorian was just fastening his belt as Klaus edged the Benz out of the lot. The return trip took what seemed half the time, and probably nearly was, because they weren't stuck behind a slow-moving limousine, and Klaus could really open the car up over the familiar stretch of pavement.

The silence was companionable as always. Sometimes the mood didn't require talk; just Klaus catching Dorian's gaze in the rear-view mirror with no little satisfaction gleaming in military green by the time the Benz rolled into the garage and stopped. "It's riding a little loose; I think tomorrow I'll have to work on it."

Dorian's eyes were smiling in return every time -- which was often -- they caught Klausí. "Only if I can sit down here with you, with a thermos of something warm, and watch you work." It would be an immensely pleasurable way to spend the Christmas afternoon, though he suspected that come the morning and the exchange of more gifts, that plan would be superseded.

"You can hand me tools," Klaus said agreeably as they got out and then moved quickly up the back steps. "You're going to get the drinks, and I'll start the fire?"

"Yes." Parting with a soft kiss, Dorian headed for the kitchen, where he discovered a sleepy-looking Dominic putting on the kettle in preparation for the family's arrival.

"[Good... morning Lord Gloria,]" the butler greeted, moving to the walk-in pantry to start arranging things for easy reach. He wanted to ask the British man if he needed to be prepared for a storm when the family came home, but... "How did service go?" He would attend in the morning, as he always did.

"[It was fine,]" the Earl reassured with a smile. "[Everyone is still in one piece, and even that horrid Kurt couldn't ruin the holiday's cheer. Klaus and I will retire to the library for the remainder of the night, just so you know.]" They could be located for emergencies, though Dorian knew after the scare they'd given Dominic that first morning it would take a very great one to cause him to disturb them again.

"[Is there anything you want me to make for you?]" Dominic offered, polite as ever.

"[No, thank you.]" Dorian planned on raiding the refrigerator for leftovers, provided he could do it quickly, before a certain butler could grump at him for making a mess of the organisation that reigned there.

"[If you do, just ask me.]" Dominic's tone, though was one that told him he'd better ask before he went and made a mess.

"[Oh no! I don't want to be a bother.]" Dorian was already tossing interesting looking things onto the counter. A quarter of a fruit tart, and a pair of exquisite little tea cakes.

"[Should I get you a plate...?]"

Plates were too formal, Dorian had already decided, as in his mind he had the most lovely images of feeding to Klaus with his fingers crumbling bits of tart. But it would horrify Dominic to tell him that! "[Just one will be fine,]" Dorian agreed at last, hunting up a generous stack of napkins.

One meant there would probably be crumbs all over the sofa in the library, something Dominic noted with a shudder as he moved to get a plate, then hand it to Dorian.

"[Thank you!]" The pilfered goodies were set on the plate, and Dorian grabbed a large container of hot water, a pair of glasses and tea and the bottle of NescafÈ. One of the benefits of Klaus liking that horrid instant stuff was that it was easy to make. The burdened blonde paused at the door, glancing back with a hearty, "[Oh! Merry Christmas, Dominic!]"

"[Merry Christmas, Lord Gloria,]" the man uttered, truly smiling at Dorian before he disappeared through the door.

And met Erich in the hallway, just coming in.

"[Where are you scurrying off to, Lord Gloria?]"

"[An important appointment,]" Dorian muttered as he pressed past. It was only though supreme will that he managed not to add something rude, like a description of the man's substandard mental abilities.

"[Did cousin Klaus demote you from pet to servant?]" Erich chuckled, almost *warmly*, at Dorian.

It would have been close to a sin in the thief's book to leave dear Erich in such a smug mood. At the end of the hall he turned, flicking heavy curls back over his shoulder. "[Why no -- whatever makes you think that? It just happens to be my turn to fetch our drinks.]"

"[Your... turn...?]" Erich blinked for a moment, then laughed. "[Ah, you are a funny man, Lord Gloria -- go. Merry Christmas too you.]"

That was quite kind, coming from Erich's lips. In the spirit of the holiday Dorian couldn't help but offer the same well-wishing in return, before taking a better grip on the plate and heading hurriedly for the library.

At the door he knocked, on the odd chance Klaus had already locked it.

Not locked yet, though once Klaus had answered it, and let Dorian in, it was *firmly* locked.

Within the fire had already been lit, starting to glow warmly to a bright life; Klaus had two glasses of Moselle poured, but if Dorian had something better, well... he'd either pour it back into the bottle or drink it himself. "Do you have everything you wanted to get?"

"NescafÈ and coffee, for when sleep begins to catch up with us." Dorian displayed the two little containers before setting them aside. And a kettle of hot water, copper, that could be put into the fireplace and reheated when needed. "And there's some left-over tart to go with the Moselle."

"Good. I have the film, the music box and a blanket." So he'd obviously made a detour to their room as soon as he was away from Dorian, and a fast one. Klaus was good at such things. He had probably moved quickly the two large chairs out of their view of the fireplace, too.

He had, Dorian was delight to find as he dropped comfortably on the end of the sofa, kicking off his shoes. Nothing should come between them and their appreciation of a nice, blazing fire. "Perfect." Not that Klaus needed an invitation to join him, but Dorian gave one with flame-bright sapphire eyes anyway.

The table near the sofa was quickly burdened with their things for the evening, and Klaus had the blanket carried in the crook of his arm as he approached Dorian with a wine glass in each hand. "Two years, Dorian."

There was a strange warmth in the pit of his stomach as Dorian took one of the glasses and clinked it lightly of Klaus' in a toast. It hadn't anything to do with the light excitement that had pervaded the whole day, nor the thrill of arousal at simply being near to his lover. It was the gravity of realisation that still struck him at odd times, that Klaus was truly his and he Klaus', and that was the way things would remain for a very long time. "Two years." The blonde man knocked back a few swallows.

Klaus emptied the entire glass -- which really wasn't so much -- and set it aside on the table, settling close against Dorian. The blanket was spread across their laps, wrapping them both up in it as Klaus pulled Dorian close. "Many, many more to come."

"Yes." Before nestling against Klaus, Dorian abandoned his glass on the side table in favour of the music box. He wound the little key, and, cupping the smooth wood in his hands let the soft tinkling music fill the air. "Do you know, I don't think anyone has ever given me something so wonderful? If my manor ever caught fire and burned, the paintings could go to hell, but I would save this music box."

Klaus still didn't have the esteem for paintings that Dorian had -- never would, despite trying his best. So it didn't seem such a tragedy to him as he shifted just a little nearer to nuzzle against Dorian's thick golden locks. "I'm glad. But I'd rather not have you running into a burning house. The tune is safe, and I could get another for you; you're worth so much more than that."

"What -- you don't want me proving my love with reckless acts of courage?" Dorian teased, sighing in pleasure as Klaus' warm breath filtered through the curls to touch his neck.

"No. You don't have to prove it to me at all." Nothing heated at all -- just a slow presence, Klaus savouring Dorian's closeness and the familiar smell of his hair.

"Good. I'm nearly worn out from proving it the first time. I'd rather all that effort be put to something more pleasant, anyway." When the box's tune began to wind down, Dorian renewed it with a few more twists of the key.

Finally, Klaus' lips touched the nape of Dorian's neck, light and tender. "I'd rather that, too."

"Really...?" One of Dorian's eyebrows rose in interest as he slowly stroked a finger up Klaus' thigh. "Tell me more of your idea of such pleasantries..."

"My ideas are often already yours..."

~~~~~

Moreso than the morning before they had to hide marks on necks and bodily stiffness, soreness. And it was obvious to all, as they joined those already in the hall, that they were wearing the same clothes as they had at Christmas Mass. Once more, they strode in together, as if either unaware or uncaring of how it appeared to the family.

The rest of the family had become accustomed to not asking uncomfortable questions, and to averting curious eyes. Those that did offer morning greetings noticed that the Earl in particular looked more bright-eyed than they'd yet seen him, either from being over-tired -- a lack of new clothes attested to their having stayed up the night -- or simply from the excitement of the holiday.

"Klaus... Why don't we grab a quick bite to eat? Then I've got a surprise for you..."

"How about we get any surprises over with," Klaus uttered, looking around at the carnage that was starting. "You need to open your Christmas gift..." And at some point he'd have to get to his...

"Are you sure you want it now?" Not that that was a problem -- Dorian had everything ready and waiting. "It will necessitate stepping outside..."

"Dorian, if you've painted my car..." Even those members of the family who didn't speak English could recognise the tone for one that could have been fatal for them. "No. Donít tell me. Just show me."

"Jackets. We'll need them, and gloves..." Dorian had that positively gleeful expression that usually boded ill for everyone involved in whatever scheme he'd concocted.

This would draw a crowd, Klaus was sure -- just Dorian's preparations for it. But, his mood was still high, so he could easily withstand some of Dorian's show-boating. "Coat-closet, then." Which gave him an excuse to leave the hall, walking briskly down to the closet holding his and Dorian's coats.

Already those who had heard the Earl's declaration were following a safe distance behind, stating that it was time for a pleasant morning ëstrollí around the grounds.

By the time Dorian and Klaus had climbed into their coats and headed for the back stairs, there was a line at the coat closet.

Not surprisingly. Whatever could carry the heir outside on a crisp Christmas morning was bound to be more interesting than the sorts of gifts they all got every year. It promised a *scene*, and if it was a bad thing that Lord Gloria had done, it also promised a near murder at the heir's hands. But Dorian could be sure that, even had he spray-painted Klaus' car, the worst that would have faced him was a very *long* bout of yelling.

Spray-painting Klaus' car was simply too boring a prank for the Earl to pull, even had he been in the mood for them. Considering the mistake of the ball, he would not be in the mood for pranks again for a *very* long time. The gift he had prepared was quite serious, if showy. He could be certain he would not be scolded for creating a scene, but aside from that, Klaus' reaction was anybody's guess, which did worry him a little.

"Perhaps I should blindfold you," Dorian mused, pushing down the icy steps into the crystalline morning air.

"Why blindfold me?" Klaus asked seriously, glancing around the yard slowly. "I don't see anything, Dorian..."

"It's not here yet," Dorian replied professionally, as he whisked off his scarf -- it had been doing an admirable job of hiding a few high, obvious marks on his neck -- and wrapped it around his lover's eyes. "To see it arrive would spoil the surprise."

Behind them, a small, communal gasp rose from the assembled relatives, to see the Earl blindfold Klaus so carelessly. Surprisingly, the expected outburst did not come.

Not even a little flinch.

"If it's stolen, Dorian..." A warning, though he was hoping that this, too, wasn't as illegal as his last gift had been.

A silence from the thief was quite eloquent, as Klaus was led further out into the yard.

There was the possibility, as he let himself be lead, that it would be horribly embarrassing. Being blindfolded made it more of a possibility...

That he continued to allow himself to be led was testament to his continued faith in Dorian.

The assembled family decided to be most impressed. That feeling was usurped by wonder as the first of them noticed an object approaching the yard through the air. One or two gasped outright, while Dorian only chuckled softly.

Only, was it Dorian's laugh, or Eroica's? "When can I take off the blindfold?"

"You'll know when, Darling," the thief purred as he pulled Klaus back a dozen long strides, all the while making signals with an arm.

Then the ground shook.

The sound of his family gasping and the chatter of voices was clear to him. He didn't wait to verify that he could take the blindfold off -- it was all but torn off, to reveal to his eyes..

A tank, a Leopard-B1, familiar... familiar! It was *his* tank, the one that Dorian had nearly driven him mad over when heíd stolen it... His tank, resting in the middle of what was, during warmer months, a Schloss flowerbed as if it belonged there, an incongruous, absolutely monstrous red bow decorating the tip of its cannon.

"Dorian! Ah, I... Ah, Thank you! Ah, Dorian!" All but incoherent at the sight of it, Klaus jerked the blonde close into a rough grasp, kissing him full on the lips.

A worse, more drastic reaction Dorian couldn't imagine. At the moment he didn't care, either, as he let himself melt against Klaus, lips eating eagerly at those pressed roughly against them. The gift, it would seem, was a smashing success. Behind Klaus' back he gave his team a thumbs up, to let them know it was all right to release the chains holding the tank from his blimp's cargo winch. Another well-plotted and well executed endeavor by Eroica and gang.

When Klaus pulled back a little, it was to discover Dorian beaming with self-satisfied pleasure, his cheeks pink from something more than the cold. "You like it?"

"I can't believe you would do this," Klaus uttered, voice caught between unsteady from shock and ecstatic with glee. In two years, he'd never asked Dorian about the tank. Not even thought to ask him -- the only time a thought of it had crossed his mind, he'd dismissed it because surely Dorian's accountant had already wisely sold it to someone! He remembered how Dorian had given him back The Man in Purple in exchange for taking that tank, the first taunting misadventure out of many.

Another kiss was taken, and Dorian could all but feel Klaus' satisfied purring; moments like that were often pleasantly intense -- when Klaus focused out the rest of the world, pinpointing directly on Dorian and *just* Dorian. " 's why you got those plans, isn't it?"

The kiss was gladly given, and another after that, and Dorian didn't care that the whole of the assembled family was probably watching them like the pair had suddenly sprouted wings and taken to the air. "The plans. I... um... acquired them because I was meaning to undertake repairs, after you took me aside and gave me that lecture on proper tank maintenance. But then I saw how difficult the whole mess was, and I was afraid to make things worse trying to fix them, so I didn't do anything. One day I was thinking of asking you for help, and that's when I decided. It's only fair. I mean, with The Man in Purple hanging in our bedroom, and you loving tanks as much as you do..."

Screeching to a halt, Dorian quickly stole another kiss, to keep himself from rambling excitedly any further on the subject. "I'm glad you approve, Darling."

"Approve?!" The *gleam* in Klaus' eyes said more than enough, as he pulled back from Dorian a little, nearing the tank. His step, tone and enthusiasm was all reminiscent of a child being *given* that pony they'd begged for for years! "Oh, Dorian. This is so..." Perfect, he wanted to say, but found himself cut off by Kurt's voice ringing out over the hushed conversing of the relatives, directed cleanly at Heinz.

"[Your son, Brother, is a complete disgrace -- now that we all have *proof* of the family heir's... perversions, he should summarily be disowned.]"

It was to no avail, though. The gleam in Heinz's eyes at the sight of that Leopard sitting in his back garden was easily equal to the one which lit his son's gray-green eyes. Already approaching the beast, he ran a hand lovingly down one fender. "[Oh, I wouldn't be so harsh on the boy, Kurt. After all, I happen to be quite fond of tanks as well. If I'd been given such a gift, I would have been tempted to kiss Lord Gloria myself.]"

Klaus had already climbed the ladder, and slid into its dark depths. "[Huh. Still needs a lot of work in here... I'll need to get a torch...]" But for the moment he knew enough to *feel* his way about the insides, settling into the seat with some satisfaction.

"[Heinz, your son is a disgrace to the family name, and you don't *care*!?]"

Dorian clambered happily after him, poking his front half into the hatch and chattering at Klaus. "I suppose this means work on the Benz has been superseded for the afternoon?"

Some of the younger, braver members of the family followed, petting the tank's sides and treads and, somewhat nervously, the cannon's long barrel.

"[There is a difference between apathy and acceptance, Kurt,]" the younger Eberbach was stiffly informed. "[Klaus' decisions are his own to make.]"

"[Any sane man would talk sense into him!]" Kurt sneered, pivoting sharply to go into the house.

"[Cousin Klaus is... is...]" Erich was stiffly immobile, though -- torn between following his father and moving with his other cousins to look at the wondrous gift.

Storming back to the house, his ears burning hotly with anger, Kurt had to tightly rein in the urge to hit his dumbfounded son, and knock realisation into him forcibly. "[A faggot! Your Cousin Klaus is a buggering faggot, you idiot! It took you so long to figure it out?]"

"[I-I didn't think...]" Hadn't *wanted* to think such a thing, and hadnít dared to, because in the past such suggestions about Klaus had been met with hot violence from the family heir.

Despite evidence to the positive, violence would still likely be Klaus' response to any remarks, and Erich was not courageous enough to risk that. Homosexual or not, his cousin packed one hell of a punch when irked! With one last forlorn glance at the marvellous Christmas present he turned and followed his father back inside the Schloss.

Klaus was checking the Leopardís interior still, using the little light that made it through the hatch around Dorian. "You'll still be handing me tools -- come down here, so you won't block my light!]"

Tumbling head-first, Dorian crept up behind his lover in the darkened interior and tossed rapturous arms around Klaus' neck. "In a minute I'll go get you those tools, and a torch besides. But for now, I think I'd prefer to let the fuss outside die down a bit."

"I think I'd rather wait it out, too." It wasn't cowardice at all, as he would have once told himself. No, this was like setting Polar-Bear against Mischa and then listening to the conversation that followed through a discreet bug...

"[Hiding?]î a dry voice inquired from the tank's hatch, as Heinz cautiously poked his head inside. Relieved to not be disturbing a romantic interlude -- he'd heard stories from Dominic -- the family patriarch smiled tentatively at his son. "[I don't blame you. That was... an abrupt way to break the news to the family, Klaus.]" Without even the warning heíd requested -- but then, Lord Gloria had promised a surprise...

"[I'm not hiding -- I was weathering a storm,]" Klaus excused, looking up at his father from within the tank's once-familiar comfort. "[I truly hadn't meant to do that. But this tank...]" While Heinz might have kissed Dorian for such a gift, Klaus, as the Earl's lover, was assured to!

"[Continue weathering,]" Heinz suggested. "[It's the best thing right now, and I would say the same even if it weren't so obvious that you want to enjoy your gift.]" His smile swung in Dorian's direction in the dim interior, and he offered shyly, "[You've done a good job of keeping it, Lord Gloria. I... would like desperately to take it for a drive later, if my son will permit.]"

"[Without a doubt, Father. Once the family has disbursed enough for me to get into the house, I'm going to get my tools so I can repair the part of the controls that are broken. Other than that, it should function perfectly still.]" His son was all but beaming that fact up at him, with a smile that reached eyes the same colour as the tank's well cleaned exterior.

It was decidedly good to see his son so happy, and if it took a decadent British Earl to make him so... Perhaps Heinz was leaning more toward approval than he'd let Kurt know. "[Good -- very good.]" The old man's words seemed to encompass intangibly something more than the assurance that he'd be allowed to pilot the precious tank. "[I... think I will head inside, to oversee the happenings under the tree.]" And run damage control, but that was a given. "[Until later, Merry Christmas to you both.]"

"[Merry]" -- oh, and it was, *truly*, for the first time spent with his family's presence in years -- "[Christmas to you, too, Father!]"

Dorian, the poor thing, couldn't help himself. Bubbling with cheer and camaraderie, he added exuberantly, "Despite the risk of sounding trite, I think I must close with 'God bless us, every one'."


End file.
